BILLINGS - When the light catches a prized bit made by Todd
Hansen, its silverwork flashes a bold salute to bling.

But the Billings-area bit and spur maker pays more careful
attention to balance and proportion than looks.

"The function has to work right first. All the glitz and glamour
in the world won't help. It has to function right," said Hansen,
whose workshop is in his home south of Molt.

Hansen works in the style of the vaqueros or buckaroos, a style
that arose in California during 1700s from Spanish and Moorish
influences.

To him, the flamboyant vaquero tradition means far more than
intricate silverwork. It involves taking pride in the ability of a
well-made bit to influence the relationship between the horse and
rider.

Proponents of the vaquero tradition say it emphasizes finesse
and a slower, less-stressful way to train horses. In a
well-schooled horse, slight movements of the rider's hands can
transmit those cues through the bit.

To find his passion, Hansen set off on an unlikely path.

***

Hansen never got on a horse until he was in
high school. He grew up in Billings, where his dad was a bartender
and truck driver and his mother worked as a clothing store
clerk.

From his first unsettling experience on horseback, Hansen knew
he wanted to learn more.

In his teens, he worked for a couple of places that raised and
trained horses for the show ring or roping. He met his wife, Tina,
at a team roping in 1984, when she was 17 and he was 19.

When they were married in 1986, Hansen went to work at the sugar
beet factory in Billings, where his wife, a lab supervisor, is the
fifth generation in her family to work at the factory.

For 17 years, Hansen made bits and spurs as a hobby, while he
worked on the mechanical crew at the sugar beet factory. The hobby
helped him create the tack the couple couldn't afford to buy.

He got advice from seasoned craftsmen, but never had formal
training. His experience in welding came from high school shop
class and from the beet factory.

From the start, he gravitated toward "the flashier gear" of the
vaquero style, rather than Midwest- or Texas-style gear, which is
usually less intricate and relies on silver overlay rather than
inlay.

By 2004, when he left the sugar beet factory, Hansen already had
a reputation for quality workmanship. But he was uncertain whether
his craft could support a family.

"My wife believed more in me than I did myself," he said.

In November, Hansen won the bit-and-spur-maker-of-the-year award
from the Academy of Western Artists, an award voted on by his
peers.

Last year, at a gallery exhibit in the Western Folklife Center
during the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nev., he won
best bridle bit.

***

Hansen has quit taking orders for his work
until he catches up on his waiting list. He doesn't advertise, but
he travels to a couple of shows a year, where he sells inlaid
silver bracelets, saddle silver and other pieces while he displays
a couple of bits.

Ned Martin of Nicasio, Calif., and his wife, Jody, have written
and published three coffee table books on bits and spurs. The third
book, which deals with contemporary bit and spur makers, includes a
segment on Hansen.

In a phone interview, Martin described Hansen's work as
"absolutely superb."

"His style of engraving is very fine, very intricate and
precise," Martin said.

Richard Caldwell of Alturas, Calif., a clinician and staunch
advocate of the vaquero tradition, owns one bit made by Hansen and
is having another made.

"There's a lot more to it than getting two pieces of metal and
welding them together," said Caldwell, who has known Hansen for
about 15 years.

"Todd's real meticulous, he really understands balance. He makes
sure everything's in line and in balance," Caldwell said.

He has known Hansen to throw a mouthpiece in the trash if the
symmetry is off by a fraction of an inch.

He also appreciates Hansen's willingness to experiment.

Hansen is making Caldwell a Las Cruces-style bit, but with a
loose jaw rather than the traditional solid jaw.

"On the cheek pieces, it will have two guys roping a bear,"
Caldwell said.

The silver inlay pays homage to early day buckaroos, who roped
bears for sport.

***

Clinicians like Caldwell try to dispel what
they consider misconceptions about vaquero gear, especially the
idea that a spade bit is cruel. Properly used, the spade bit is a
signal bit, not a leverage or pressure bit, Caldwell said.

A slight movement of the rider's hand gives a well-trained horse
the signal to pay attention and collect itself to respond to a
command.

Caldwell compares it to the difference between driving a
Volkswagen without power steering and a Mercedes-Benz.

"With the Mercedes, you barely move your hand an inch, and the
signal's there," he said.

When Hansen makes bits and spurs, he usually starts from a flat
sheet of steel. He begins with the bit's mouthpiece, then does the
cheeks, or side pieces.

"When I go to balance those cheeks, I've got to have my
mouthpiece down, so I can get a feel of how it's going to hang and
move," he said.

Then he removes the steel from where the silver inlay will
go.

"I put that silver in there so it's nice and flat and it's
airtight."

He usually sketches decorative designs on paper then transfers
them to metal. He saves the rein chains, the most repetitious part,
for last.

His wife sometimes describes her husband's style of silverwork
as "bling-y."

"We come up with the wow factor," Hansen said. "Whether they go,
‘Wow, I really love it,' or ‘Wow, I really hate it,' one way or
another you got a wow out of them."

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